


Thunder

by legendofkaurra



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Forgiveness, Friendship, Healing, Loneliness, Romance, Self-Discovery, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26774407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendofkaurra/pseuds/legendofkaurra
Summary: His push is no match for her pull.Walking home one night, Cass meets a beaten and bloodied young man and chooses to do what she does best- meddle. Despite his resistance, she stumbles across several things: an underground fighting ring, an alluring darkness, and a violent storm brewing.Max wants her to forget everything she saw- including him- but he quickly learns it won't be that easy. Of all his opponents, she may be the only one who can get the better of him - and he might want her to.Until one gamble risks uprooting everything they're trying to protect.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW and CW: Violence, masochism, strong language, physical and sexual assault, rape threat, mention of suicide, hospitals and injury
> 
> Thunder was born out of two primary inspirations. The first was a prompt: Start a scene with the sentence 'it feels good to burn'. The second is the song 'Boy In The Bubble' by Alec Benjamin. It was not originally intended to be a long project, so the story primarily revolves around the characters and their growth.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the ride!

_It feels good to burn._

The thought danced at the forefront of Max's mind as feet and fists pounded into him, spreading a ticklish fire through his limbs. The sound of grunts and rattling breaths dragged on, frustration growing, eyes flashing and teeth bared.

Their rhythm picked up as they waited for him to beg. For him to cry.

But he was grinning like a fucking maniac; this was the sweetest agony he could imagine. Even as cracks joined the symphony of laboured breaths and hissed insults. Even as he felt hot blood soaking his clothes, pooling below him. Throbbing turned to searing, shooting pain. Skin split over bone.

It hurt so good. So fucking good.

A distant siren interrupted them mid-strike, prompting a surge of disappointment. Max was certain no one had called the cops for him, but the cowards staggered back and looked around. It was pitiful, how tired they looked. Didn't they know he could do this all night?

"Let's get out of here," the ringleader suggested, voice gruff yet airy.

"Boo," Max replied, voice thick as blood poured from his nose and mouth. "I'll miss you~" He playfully swiped at one of their ankles- the smallest one, was it Jamie?- but of course the ringleader stomped on his forearm.

He may be an ass, but it was almost cute how protective he was. Almost.

"Shut the fuck up, you _freak._ "

A foot smashed into Max's face and sent him reeling, though he laughed. The sound was distant, echoing through the alleyway, and by the time he blinked the water from his eyes, they were gone. So was the siren.

What a shame.

He dragged himself upright, bricks sliding under one hand as he started to limp home, a grin still on his face. When he caught his reflection in the dark glass of one of the shops on the street, it widened; ugly bruises were springing up over his cheeks, forehead, and jaw. Blood had stained the whole lower half of his face, and the whites of his teeth were prominent against it.

It was a sick look. He liked it.

He drank down the blood and licked it from his lips, hands shaking as he pulled his earphones out of his pockets. He was glad they hadn't mugged him; he was in the mood for his theme song. A few taps later, _Boy In The Bubble_ began to blare as he started the long trek home.When the chorus hit, his eyes closed, smile tugged wider by the music.

_Punch my face_

_Do it 'cause I like the pain_

_Every time you curse my name_

_I know you want the satisfaction_

_It's not gonna happen_

_Knock me out_

_Kick me when I'm on the ground_

_It's only gonna let you down_

_Come the lightning and the thunder_

_You're the one that suffers_

He breathed the word 'suffer' as it repeated, inhaling as something brushed against his chest and sent pain shooting through it. His first thought was that they'd returned and he felt himself absolutely light up, eyes opening.

But he wasn't that lucky.

It took his gaze a few seconds to focus properly on the girl- woman?- in front of him, shattered glasses abandoned in the alleyway behind him. By default, he gave her a quick once-over: she was just two inches shorter than him, dressed in jeans and a grey bomber jacket, long dark waves pulled neatly over one shoulder. Most noteworthy was her expression; her eyes were wide, lips parted, horror written all over it as her gaze trailed over his face.

Max didn't bother masking his disappointment, smile falling away. She let out a breath before her lips were moving. The music was still playing. Didn't she know that earphones were a sure sign that he didn'twant to be bothered?

He sighed as he yanked them out. "What do you want?"

"You need to go to the hospital," she began, tone wavering despite the clear attempt to sound firm. It looked like someone in his damn city actually gave a shit about others. Fucking wild.

It was unfortunate for her that his mood had already soured. He pretended to consider it, humming and tilting his head. "Nah." And then he limped around her and kept going, moving to put his earphones back in.

" _Yes_ , you do!" she insisted, light footsteps scurrying to catch up to him. "I'll take you! I don't have a car but I'll call a cab-"

"-I said no," he cut in, edge creeping into his tone as he shot her a glare. She was annoying but too well-intentioned for him to pull it off with ease. "Fuck off."

She bristled, hands balling into fists in her pockets. "Please?" she pleaded, tone betraying none of the frustration on her face.

He snorted hard enough that blood dripped from his nose again, and he wiped it with the back of his hand. Not dignifying her question with a response, he turned and continued home.

But then she popped in front of him again, and he bit back a cuss, realizing he might hit a girl today. He might _actually_ hit her.

"Sir, you _really_ need it."

Max hesitated, eyebrow arching. The 'sir' threw him off- he was just barely an adult, and with his height of five-seven, he didn't look it. "How old do you think I am?" he blurted out.

Her lashes fluttered, pink tinging her cheeks. "I don't know? But _dude_ sounds like too informal, y'know?" She did some awkward hand gesture as she said 'dude' and he wondered if she thought that 'bros' actually talked like that. Or did that hand thing.

It didn't matter. Admittedly, she was getting cuter by the second and that was the last thing he wanted to think about.

"Cool." He offered her a tight smile. "I still want you to stop talking to me."

"You're _limping._ "

"No way!" He glanced down in feigned surprise before shooting her a deadpan look. She faltered, hurt flicking in her eyes, but this was necessary to get rid of her. "Bye." And then he tried to push past her, relieved when he didn't hear her following.

After a few seconds she spoke up, tone so soft that Max wasn't sure if she intended for him to hear. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna call you an ambulance." He groaned. Because an ambulance could move faster than he could right now, and it was a long walk home.

"Stop," he hissed, rounding on her. She flinched, but the pang of guilt he felt was short-lived. "What's your fucking problem? Do you just meddle in everyone's shit?"

"Yeah." The sheepish confession came so fast that he was taken aback. "Sorry. But if I let you go... wherever you're going, looking like _that_ , I'm not gonna forgive myself. Or stop thinking about it. I'll worry a lot, you know!" She looked hopeful as she said the last bit.

He scowled. "Are you trying to guilt me?"

"Is it working?" The corners of her lips tugged up and he hated himself.

"No." And the fact that he'd let her waste so much of his time was embarrassing; yet a few more seconds slipped by as they stared at one another, breeze rolling through the street and tousling her hair.

She tucked a strand behind her ear, tilting her head and giving him a coy little smile. "You have pretty eyes," she added, tone soft and it sent shivers down his spine.

Max's cheeks were hit with a second wave of heat, and he was grateful that it was dark out. He spun away instinctively, ignoring the compliment. "How do you know I'm not going home to someone who'll take care of me?"

"Gut feeling," she replied, bouncing to his side again.

"Well you're wrong," he lied easily. "I'm fine. So leave me alone."

"Why don't I get you a cab home then?" she offered, keeping pace. "And I can walk you to the door. You can lean on me, I don't mind the blood. And I'd want to be sure that there's someone-"

"There's _no one_ ," he hissed just to shut her up.

"So you lied."

_No shit._ And just to get some distance, he shoved her. Harder than he meant to. She stumbled and looked like she'd almost regained her balance, but the curb behind her took her by surprise. She tripped backwards over it and hit the ground with a sound of pain. Her eyes were immediately damp, one hand covering her mouth and muffling her hitching breaths.

_Fuck._

He didn't want to apologize, didn't want to help her up, but of course he was scrambling to do both before he could convince himself not to. Because he was a weak piece of shit.

"I'm sorry- I'm so sorry." He pulled her upright, her warm hands in his, and he panicked when he saw the blood on her hands. And then realized it was his own. "Sorry." He yanked his hands back to his sides.

"It's okay," she assured him, but she didn't meet his gaze. Tears started spilling down her cheeks and she sniffled, wiping them with the back of her hand, careful to avoid getting blood on her face.

Max waited for her to turn and head home, or wherever she was going before she ran into him. But she didn't go anywhere- she just stood there by his side. Was she serious?

"Go," he instructed, a growl bleeding into his tone.

She shook her head. He should have left her on the ground.

"What- _what_ do you want me to do?" he demanded, incredulity building. "I don't want to go to the hospital. I don't want to deal with that. This is not new- I'll be fine, I _know_ how to take care of myself. I don't need you to worry. I need you to go home."

"Walking on an injured leg isn't taking care of yourself," she chided.

His hands curled into fists. " _What do you want me to do?_ "

"I live a couple minutes away," she suggested, pointing down the road towards some apartment complexes. In this shitty part of town, he actually felt bad for her. His family wasn't rich, but at least they had a small house away from this shitshow. "You said there's no one at home to help you, right? So let me. And then I can get you a cab home."

He genuinely wondered if it was some sort of trap. If she was just the cute bait and if he'd be kidnapped if he went. Part of his confusion stemmed from the expression on her face, the look in her eyes- she was at least a little scared of him. She was trying to be courageous and it made no sense.

Why? Just _why?_

But he believed, a hundred percent, that she'd try to call an ambulance if he declined. The adrenaline had faded and the pain and discomfort were starting to sink in, _really_ sink in.

Plus, she would shut up if he just listened. Who cared if it was a trap?

So she led the way to one of the newer condo buildings built just at the edge of the older apartment complexes. He felt less bad. Especially when she hit the button for the penthouse. The building was barely twenty floors, so it wasn't a big deal, but the elevators opened directly into an entrance hall that was so classy it had no business existing in this shitty town.

Her family definitely made at least five times as much as his. Minimum.

As least the shock helped numb him. But he looked like shit, felt like shit, and when she led him into the washroom, it was gleaming and the whole situation felt wrong. He was too dirty to be here.

She brought him a garbage bag for his clothes, not a laundry hamper. Thank goodness.

"You're not going to throw them out, right?" Max's fingers curled around the bottom of his hoodie, but he froze before he could mindlessly peel it off. He couldn't just undressin front of her.

She offered a crooked, suppressed smile. "Nah. Gonna wash them well." She began pointing out the soaps and shampoos and conditioners- because for some reason, he had _options_ \- but he found himself staring at her instead.

It still felt like a trap. She'd taken her jacket off to reveal a sturdy but feminine figure, and he followed the curve of her shoulder with his eyes, down her brown waves- wondering if they were as soft as they looked- and his gaze hung on her waist. She had a nice one and shapely thighs below a lovely ass and goddamn, he was such a perverted asshole. Here she was helping him, and he was just ogling her in response.

He ushered her out, hoping the water could wash away the self-directed disgust too. Surprisingly, it did. Those fifteen minutes were more than enough for the tension to slip away; he was awash in a floral scent when he emerged, patting himself dry almost lazily.

Max realized she'd left a first-aid kit on the counter with ice packs, and only hesitated a second before helping himself. Several of the nastier wounds were still oozing blood and it took him a while to stop the flow, disinfect, apply ointment, and wrap them up. He noticed his skin was burning to the touch despite some shivers running through him; the beginning of a fever, maybe. After what felt like at least half an hour, he donned the navy blue robe she'd left out for him.

He shouldn't have let her wash his clothes- it would undoubtedly take a while, and being in a robe felt... weird. Not that it could look sexy in any way. His face was too fucked up for that.

She was too young to be living alone, so he cracked the washroom door open slowly and peered out. The radio was playing and he could hear her singing over it- her voice carried better. And it was a really nice voice, crisp and musical.

He needed to get out of here.

Wary of her parents being home, Max took his time moving towards the sound of her voice, prepared to bolt. As he entered the dining area, an open kitchen to his right, he saw no one but her. She'd changed out of her sweater and into a loose grey t-shirt, hair pulled into a high ponytail as she stirred a pot on the stove.

He noticed the table was set with two plates, and felt himself tense- but he was just jumping to conclusions, right? Someone could be joining her for dinner soon after he left.

"Have a seat! Dinner is almost ready," she chirped when she noticed him, beaming over her shoulder.

Or not.

The frustration came boiling up and wasted no time in spilling out of him. "I don't even know your _name_ ," he half-snapped. "I don't know who you are, who owns this condo, why I'm here other than to get you to shut up, and- why are you making me dinner? I need to _go home._ "

Max didn't realize how worked up he was until the searing in his ribs returned. He grabbed a chair and sank into it, grimacing as he pressed an ice pack to his torso. _Goddamn._

She stared at him for a moment before abandoning the pot, moving over with careful steps to kneel by him. "It's Cassiopeia." Her tone was soft as she searched his gaze. In the sparkling light overhead, the green of her eyes reminded him of a forest canopy, sunlight daring to peek through the gaps in the leaves. It was warm. "A mouthful, I know. My parents call me Cassie, but you can just go with Cass if that sounds less... endearing. Does that help?"

" _No._ " He forced himself to look away, heart pounding. _Cassiopeia._ It was a beautiful name, fitting for her, and he needed to get out of here.

"Well, I tried." She shrugged and got up. "Your clothes are gonna take a bit. If you want me to get them to you another time and just borrow something else in the meantime, you can. And I can call you a cab home. But I thought it was okay to wait, and I figured we could eat in the meantime?"

The idea of seeing her after today was so much more problematic than just waiting a couple extra hours, so he gave in, letting her serve him. She'd made pasta and it was the best cooking he'd tasted in... years? His mom barely had time with her two jobs, he was pretty shit at it himself, and his older sisters were never around. When they were, it was restaurants or his mom's mediocre cooking.

Nothing like this. The vegetables were diced and sliced carefully, offering a savoury and somewhat sweet flavour without being overbearing. The proportions were perfect. If she was a friend, he might have asked to take some leftovers home. But she wasn't.

Max didn't say a word as they ate. She got the hint for once, throwing on a pop playlist and digging in casually. He started to notice the little things. Like how she seemed to sit with either one or both legs crossed. She shifted a lot. The watch on her wrist had a wide face and was surprisingly masculine. She was really enjoying the tropical blend juice she'd served them. Her thoughts occasionally wandered, and when they did, she twirled one of those brown strands absentmindedly. She peeked at him a lot, even though he kept his head down. Her lips also looked soft, like rose petals.

He needed to get out of here.

He wondered what her parents did. If they were even coming home tonight. How old she was. What she did. What made her happy.

_Stop. Stop._

This was fucking bullshit. Max was relieved when she took the dishes away to wash them. When she gave back his clothes and let him change into them. When she let the near silence continue until she'd escorted him back downstairs so they could wait for the cab.

And there, with his hands deep in his pockets, an unexpected pang of sadness struck. Followed by a wave of loneliness. It seized his chest, refused to let the air out of his lungs, more crippling than what those boys had done to him.

He wanted to ask for her number. Ask if he could see her again. Not just because she was cute, but because she was nice. Because she cared. Because it was surprisingly easy to be around her, even when she was quiet. But he didn't.

Instead, Max thanked her quietly and got into the cab. He reached to close the door but she was already doing it for him, and that was it. This was goodbye.

But then she pulled the door open and his breath caught. She leaned in, a soft smile on her lips and a strange sadness in her eyes. It felt like there was a knife twisting in his heart and he didn't know why. "Can I at least get your name too?"

After everything she'd done for him, it was the least he could do. "Max."

"Max," she repeated, and he loved the sound of it on her lips. He wanted to hear it again. He wanted her to ask the questions that he was too cowardly to voice.

But she didn't.

"Take care, Max. Good night." And she was looking right into him, he was falling into her but then the door was closed. And the cab was driving off. He turned to look out the window, craning his neck until she was out of sight. She stayed on the sidewalk, waving until the car turned.

And he couldn't help it. For the first time in years, he broke.


	2. Chapter 2

The urgent flickering in Max's otherwise guarded eyes was going to haunt her. It was almost pleading, like he was trying to say _I don't want to leave._

But that wasn't what his lips said, so Cass could do nothing but watch the cab drive off. A part of her hoped that the vehicle would stop, that Max would climb out. But for what? Why would he do that?

This wasn't a movie. She'd crossed enough lines even dragging him over to the condo. And despite agreeing, he'd made it clear he didn't want to talk, which she'd tried to respect to the best of her abilities.

Yet she was already wondering if there was a way to find the person- or people- who'd left him in that state. She'd caught the bloodied smile he had shot his reflection, and his unbothered expression made her aware there was a chance he'd just let it happen to him.

The problem was that both scenarios worried her immensely. It was with a heavy heart and a defeated sigh that she began her trek up the stairwell, slowly making her way to the penthouse.

If she was honest with herself, bringing him over wasn't just about helping him patch up; she was a lot more selfish than she thought she was. One step into her home, and she already missed the space Max filled. The silent company.

The first day she'd seen this condo, it was modeled for showings; flawless, spotless, unlived in. The ambiance could have been an expensive art gallery or something, with the open concept and bright hues. And all that had changed when they'd moved in; it now had the warm and rich tones that her parents enjoyed, bold design choices and unconventional splashes of colour, plants and flowers in nearly every room-

-yet it still looked unlived in. A picturesque, perfect model condo. Only her own room dared to stray from it, but after a while, even that had begun to feel suffocating.

How was she supposed to make this a home on her own?

Cass shook the thoughts from her head, letting out a controlled breath. She made herself a cup of hot chocolate, piling on the whipped cream before curling up in an armchair by the large glass windows overlooking the small city. Watching the cars and people pass by, she wondered if she'd recognize him from a distance like this. Probably not.

What a shame. He was really cute, an angular face with shapely and expressive brown eyebrows and a kind-of-sexy jawline. The smooth coral of his lips was lovely despite the swelling, and his eyes were a dark auburn. With the light in them, they'd reminded her of wine. Though his hair was short at the sides, the brown waves on top and spilling onto his forehead really suited him. Especially when they were wet, fresh out of the shower, one of those curls hanging lower than the rest.

Like she could wrap it around a finger.

Cass groaned into her hand, heat blooming in her cheeks. She didn't want this to be about that. She really didn't. She got up and began to pace, trying to formulate an _actionable_ plan.

But really, what could she do? Sneak peeks had led her to realize he was more muscular than he let on. But he'd also smiled at his bloodied reflection, so even if he had the option of fighting back, would he? Or had he let it happen?

The most she could do was try to find him again and check in. It wasn't like she could track down and fight the assholes who'd done that to him. At the same time, she really wanted to. But if her parents caught wind of that-

She blinked rapidly, squeezing her drink before draining it. Though she hadn't done anything wrong, the idea of her parents finding out about tonight was... uncomfortable. Hurrying to the guest washroom, she eliminated all traces that it had been used before doing the same with the laundry room. When everything looked normal, she grabbed her tablet and reclaimed her seat from earlier.

Firstly, she'd need a bike to help cover ground faster; she did some research, picked one out and ordered it immediately. She vaguely considered some sort of martial arts classes- they may come in handy and it would help fill her time- but maybe she could just volunteer instead. The library, perhaps? And realistically, she shouldn't be trying to fight anyone. Maybe some other classes would be good, like dance.

Something to keep her from worrying about her new not-friend, at least sometimes.

And as easily as that, she was staring out the window and wondering if Max was home now. If anyone was giving him a hard time for being home late or for his injuries. If he'd be able to sleep comfortably or if, like her, he might stay up awhile and have some regrets.

She'd never know. And she knew, deep down, that if she found him again it would be on chance alone. It would be a sign that the universe was smiling down on her, though she also doubted enough would change in that time- he might still tell her to just leave him alone.

A smile tugged at her lips at the thought of it, gaze drifting back down to the street.

She could do this dance. She didn't mind.


	3. Chapter 3

Max nearly slammed the door behind him, catching it at the last second and letting out a heavy breath. He knew he needed to calm down, but why control the fire? There was no one around to burn, to hurt.

Only him.

And the house could use the goddamn heat anyways. There was the distant memory of his mother mentioning that the thermostat was broken, that she'd call someone to come have a look. That must have been over three months ago.

Pale yellow light flooded from the hallway into the living room, and Max hesitated before shuffling inside and flicking them on properly. Even though nothing had changed in weeks, in months, he stood there and drank it in. Dead plants on the windowsill, leaves yellowed and curled. Faded brown sofas that looked both overused and glaringly unused. A musty carpet that hadn't been vacuumed in months.

He hated it all.

He remembered his sisters curled up on either side of him, all of them huddled under a blanket, the infuriating bickering that he was always caught in the middle of. A warm bowl of popcorn in his lap. Being fed during horror movies because they were both too scared to let go of his arms; despite being the youngest and smallest, he'd always taken it upon himself to protect them. Like a brother was supposed to.

But they didn't need it anymore. They were gone.

His gaze drifted to the bare wooden table along one wall, summoning an image of his father pushing reading glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. He'd sit with envelopes and papers scattered in front of him- bills they couldn't pay.

They were gone now too. Both the bills and his dad.

Max let out a shaky breath, trying to fight the burning- in his eyes, under his skin, in his chest. He'd wanted this, hadn't he?

He'd known for over a year now that the only true residents of his house were the ghosts that haunted it. Memories and echoes of laughter, snippets of moments lost in the river of time- they drifted away, slowly but surely. The light was gone but the shadows lingered.

The memory of Cass's penthouse was unbidden and jarring; bright, sparkling, lively. Another world. She carried the kind of energy that made the air dance, made colours burn brighter. Her plants thrived as though it was summer.

Of course. There was life there. He'd had a home once, too. He'd had a loving family. A mother who nurtured her gardens and her children, watched them grow and bloom. He knew what it was like to have loving parents that were around.

But then he remembered her dining table, set only for two. He imagined if she'd been alone tonight- the image of just one plate at that large table in that spacious penthouse. Cass sitting alone, humming quietly along to that same pop playlist they'd listened to.

His heart sank, slipping further when he recalled the quiet intensity in her eyes. She knew. For the first time, he confessed to himself that maybe their ghosts responded to the same name.

But she wasn't his problem.

He flicked the lights off and headed upstairs, gaze distant and avoiding all the other signs begging to be noticed. The anger came rushing back with a flood of hot tears. How dare she rip him out of the only comforts he could find solace in? The monotony, the silence, the assurance that he was worthless by a world that always moved on. Screaming aloud or in silence- it made no difference. No fucking difference.

No one was supposed to notice. So why the fuck had she been paying attention?

He changed and climbed into bed, letting out a hiss as his entire body _seared_. For once, he hated the pain.

There was no smug satisfaction, no twisted relief, no enjoyment as his fever picked up. He spent the night in bed and emptied his water bottle within minutes, though his thirst remained unquenched. There was a passing thought to refill it, but a sense of paralysis crept up on his limbs until he knew he couldn't move.

Maybe she _was_ his problem.

He couldn't stop wondering why. Why she cared, why she'd gone out of her way, why him? But that was some self-centered bullshit- she'd probably do that for anyone. He shouldn't have gone to her condo, shouldn't even have tried to talk to her on the street. So what if she'd called an ambulance for him? They couldn't treat him without his consent.

Why hadn't that piece of information come to mind when he'd needed it?

Oh, right. Because he was a lonely piece of shit who craved human attention as much as he pushed it away. And she _had_ seemed open to... a friendship? Not that it mattered. He'd left for a reason. She'd let him go for a reason.

It was over.

He turned to muffle sobs into his pillow, savouring another wave of pain, hoping he'd pass out before his mom got home. But the twisting in his chest was agony- it burned and it bled. He'd thought he was good at this. At being alone.

So why did it feel like there was a gaping hole in his chest?

Why couldn't he breathe?

But maybe it had nothing to do with her. Maybe she just had his father's concern in her eyes, his sisters' insistence in her words. But she didn't have the obligatory ties of blood and maybe that felt nice. Wholesome. To be seen, to be cared about, to have someone extend a hand and say _let me help._

In this cruel and shitty world, that was a nice change of pace.

And she was cute. He whined into the pillow between sobs, fingertips digging into it.

He needed to let this go. He couldn't afford to waste any time or energy hoping for something that would never, _never_ happen. It was bad enough that he'd have to miss work, not to mention the unavoidable drama when his mother discovered his state- and that he'd broken his fucking glasses. He'd have to lie, say he got jumped and couldn't fight back.

He was tired. So tired that he didn't bother fighting the image of his fingers weaving through her hair. So tired that he let himself imagine what it would be like to be held by someone like that. Maybe kiss her.

To grieve the loss of something he never had- that could wait for the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I just wanna let you know that I've been posting Thunder on AO3 as a sort of experiment. As of today (2020/10/02) I have 23 chapters written and will happily post more upon request. Just wanted to gauge if there was any interest! Thanks and have a lovely day <3


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